Thursday, May 1, 2014

On Those That I Miss

Your words are always simple, but I know that your feelings touch depths that some are too afraid to explore. I miss you, Tay! I really miss you!
And I know that you do. I can feel your pained, voided, heavy heartbeat
behind those words; the longing of a mother for her child, for late
nights watching Forrest Gump, for walks to the coffee shop, for laughing
off irritation and realizing that we’re not as hardened as we feel.

I translate your simple, I really miss yous, to, Please come home. I’m hurting and I really wish you were here to laugh with me.

We’re both really good at laughing.
We’ve both been healed by our laughter.
//
I remember that time we were house-sitting and they had a cat whose
purr sounded like people chatting outside. I’ve shared a little of that
moment with other people and now that cat’s little purr has turned into
an inside joke.

If I miss one thing about you, I miss your humor. I realize now how it’s so much like mine.
There is that temptation to take my missing the way you made me laugh
and turn it into longing for who we were and then bitterness for that
no longer being available to me.

I’m seeing though, the wisdom in not plucking a flower in order to
take its beauty for my own possession, but rather, leaving it planted so
that it may remain alive and beautiful.

So I will leave our memory a memory and no longer try to morph it
back into a reality. Seasons are seasons. They are born and they are
taken away by the wind.